Tevun-Krus #54 - OceanPunk

To Be A Royal Marine - A Short Story by @ChristopherArmston8

"Fire"

Boom!

Crack!

"Edwards, what did I say?"

The young man in question sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself. He knew that he had fired late, the fifth time today. Sergeant McCallum had been patient with him, but Lieutenant Blake did not appreciate my repeated failures. Still he had to answer Sergeant McCallum, "Don't anticipate the shot, squeeze the trigger when the order is given, not before or after."

"Yes. Now lets try this again.. Gunners prepare to fire. Royal marines, reload," boomed McCallum.

With his feet planted firmly on the rolling deck of the ship, he spun his rifle around. Drawing the well used ramrod from its spot beneath the barrel, he held it in hand. Ramrod in hand, he pulled out and tore a cartridge, pouring most of its contents down the barrel. Now he jammed the ramrod down the barrel, forcing the bullet down into the gun. Feeling the bullet refuse to move anymore, he withdrew it from the gun. Once it was back in place, young Edwards filled the flash pan with the remaining powder.

Ready he brought his rifle back to his shoulder and waited. Left and right of him, men in bright red and white uniforms stood at the ready. They were the Royal Marines stationed aboard HMS Defiance, a third rate of the line. The gunners who stood at the ready to fire wore blue jackets over their white sea weather clothes. While the looked different, each one of them had grown up in Great Britain.

"Gunners, fire!"

Boom boom boom

Three cannon fired, one after the other. Had a French ship been within range it would have been pummeled. The cannons were a ship true defense, the royal marines its personal army to defend its life when the cannons could not.

"Royal marines at the ready, take aim, fire!" Commanded McCallum.

Boom!

"Alright that's the spirit. Now get those muskets cleaned up and ready for inspection in one hour," Ordered McCallum.

Glad to have done it right, Edwards followed his fellow marines across the deck and down into the belly of the ship. It was dark below, a few oil lamps lighting the hallways. Each and every person knew the ship from end to end. Edwards and the others had no difficulty finding their way to their hammocks even with the poor light and swaying of the floor beneath them. Here they spent their free time talking of home and of the things they or others had seen.

There would be no free time for them today, as a drum beat began. All sailors knew the call to arms, and the group who had just been about to clean their muskets turned around as one and rushed back to the deck above.

Above in the light the deck was a scene of frantic yet organized work. This work was due to the pair of dark forms that appeared from the horizon. High atop their mast flew their national flag. White with a fancy emblem, the French. Frogs, as they were better known as, were the British sailors worst enemy. A sailor lived to serve, but many never saw home once they left its shores. Edwards hoped that he would not join his countrymen wrapped in canvas and give to the ocean.Amidst all the movement, a strong voice bellowed, "Royal Marines, form up in two ranks."

Last in line, Edwards was the odd man out. This was fine with him, but today it presented an unique opportunity. McCallum reached him and with a look ordered, "Pick your shots carefully. Don't fire when the others do. I want you to shoot in between, giving the others a chance to reload without those Frogs shooting at them."

Nervous as this was their first engagement, Edwards drew himself to attention and uttered, "Aye aye."

No longer concerned about making sure his shots were in time with the others, he loaded his musket. It was old and beat up, but at a short distance no one would survive a hit from it. He would even be a hard target to hit, as bundled up hammocks and crates of supplies were piled knee waist high to give the men some protection from enemy fire.

Now all he had to do was wait, wait for the enemy to show themselves hopping around their ship like madmen. Wait, a horrible way to spend ones time while men shouted and cannons boomed. The all consuming task that all sailors had to face eventually.